It was painted red the stripe was white
It was eighteen feet from the bow to the stern light
Secondhand from a dealer in Atlanta
I rode up with daddy when he went there to get her
We put on a shine; put on a motor
Built out of love, made for the water
Ran her for years, ’til the transom got rotten
A piece of my childhood that will never be forgotten

It was just on old plywood boat
With a ’75 Johnson with electric choke
A young boy two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it made me feel
And I would turn her sharp
And I would make her whine
He’d say, “you can’t beat the way an old wood boat rides”
Just a little lake across the Alabama line
But I was king of the ocean
When daddy let me drive

Just an old half ton shortbed ford
My uncle bought new in ’64
Daddy got it right ’cause the engine was smoking
A couple of burnt valves and he had it going
He let me drive her when we’d haul off a load
Down a dirt strip where we’d dump trash off of Thigpen Road
I’d sit up in the seat and stretch my feet out to the pedals
Smiling like a hero that just received his medal

It was just an old hand-me-down Ford
With a three-speed on the column and a dent in the door
A young boy two honds on the wheel
I canö³t replace the way it mode me feel
And I would press that clutch
And I would keep it right
And he’d say, “a little slower son you’re doing just fine”
Just a dirt rood with trash on each side
But I was Mario Andretti
When daddy let me drive

I’m grown up now three daughters of my own
I let them drive my old Jeep across the pasture at our home
Maybe one day they’ll reach back in their file
And pull out that old memory
And think of me and smile and say

It was just an old worn out Jeep
Rusty old floorboard, hot on my feet
A young girl two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it made me feel
And he’d say, “turn it left and steer it right,
Straighten up girl, you’re doing just fine”
Just a little valley by the river where we’d ride
But I was high on a mountain
When daddy let me drive